


What He Must

by deathmarkedlove_archivist



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-29
Updated: 2007-01-29
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathmarkedlove_archivist/pseuds/deathmarkedlove_archivist
Summary: How Buffy got Spike off the cross in Beneath You





	What He Must

“Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers. To be the kind of man who would nev— To be a kind of man. And she shall look on him with forgiveness and everybody will forgive and love… and he will be loved. So everything’s okay, right. Can we rest? Buffy, can we rest?”

His almost Shakespearean lament rang in my ears. I barely even noticed as tears tracked down my face. I watched in shock as my ex-lover draped himself across the large, metal cross, the acrid smell of his burning flesh permeating the air. The image of a martyr. The moonlight filtered through the windows making eerie patterns with the smoke coming off Spike’s body.

A cricket sounded outside causing me to jolt from my trance. Slowly I moved toward Spike so as not to startle him, my heels clicking lightly on the stone floor. Gently I touched him across the shoulder, trying my best to comfort him. My mind did a strange flash back to a few years ago when I tried to do the same to Angel when he just had come back from hell. Spike however, didn’t flinch, he didn’t even move, he just lay there letting his flesh sear.

I moved around in front of Spike, I really needed to move him. Gently I took his arms off the crucifix and then ducked under the horizontal cross-bar. I took his body weight on mine, gently pushing him off the cross, his body like a dead weight.

“Buffy?” he whispered.

“We have to get you fixed up.” I told him, unable to think of what else to say.

“Am I worthy?”

His words echoed around in my head for a couple of seconds, like a scream in a stone cave. He didn’t want to know if he was worthy of my help; he wanted to know if he was worthy of my memories, worthy of our times together, no matter how sick and twisted they were, worthy of that little place inside of me I had set aside for him no matter how vehemently I denied it. What a tangled web we weave?

I carefully thought through my answer as I helped him to a seat on one of the pews. Lies and smoke screens wouldn’t do now. Honestly, I didn’t know. He needed an answer; the truth would have to do. “I don’t decide worthy, William.”

He turned his head to face me at my use his ‘human’ name, those pale blue orbs penetrating deeply into my own. Suddenly I recognised what had been bugging me since the first time I saw him in the basement after his little trip. It was what he had named the ‘spark’. I could see why. The burden a guilty conscience glimmered just below the surface. His eyes had always had fire, but now that passion for the kill had been replaced by this little affliction.

I broke the gaze when I saw a flash of pain cross his eyes. Not that of guilt but physicality. That I knew how to deal with. So for the first time I brought myself to look at what he had done to himself. I couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath. His entire torso was a red mess. The parts which had been touching the cross had blackened and the skin around turned cherry red. Various blisters covered his body and I could see puss mingled with some blood weeping from under the blackened, dead skin. Gently I took his left arm at the wrist and inspected the damage done there. Luckily these weren’t as bad as his torso, but after seeing many burns, especially on vampires, I knew they’d get serious if I didn’t do something about them. He may have been a vampire, but if they got infected, he would be in some serious pain for days.

Gently I placed an arm around his waist and pull his arm over my shoulder, ready to help him out of the church. “Where are we going?” he asked, sanity obviously firmly back at the wheel now.

“Your old crypt,” I told him. Truth be told I hadn’t really decided on the crypt until Spike asked. It made the most sense, it was close and Clem was still there so it was liveable and Clem wouldn’t ask any uncomfortable questions. Clem would just help.

We walked through the cemetery in silence. It was only then that I realised that Xander and Dawn might be worried about me. I couldn’t do anything about that now. I rid myself of those thoughts and concentrated on helping the now soulled vampire across the cemetery. What pain he was feeling he didn’t show, we just kept on walking.

A let the cool night play over my face as we walked. It was my comfort. I couldn’t show my grief, fear or anguish, I had to be his relief. I couldn’t believe that this was the same man that I was having such violent feelings for only half an hour ago. Who I wouldn’t even let touch me.

We reached the crypt. I knocked on the door and Clem answered. He took one look at us and quickly stepped aside. As I predicted Clem didn’t ask any questions, just ushered us quickly inside and helped me lie Spike out on the couch before rushing to find some medical supplies.

“You don’t have to pity me,” Spike told me as soon as Clem left.

I looked at him, trying to suppress my emotions. Not to scream at him for being a dickhead. “I don’t,” I whispered. It was the truth.

Spike cocked his head slightly to the side, like he always did when he was trying to read my signals. I small smile quickly flicked on my face, it was so reminiscent of the old Spike. “Don’t lie.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you, Spike,” I told him. “I feel in awe.” I locked gazes with him for the second time that night. He seemed to accept my answer as fact after a couple of seconds.

Our moment was broken my Clem coming hurrying through the door arms packed with burn creams, alcohol and bandages. I looked at him questioning, he didn’t bring any antiseptic to clean the burns first.

He held up the alcohol. “It will hurt, but it works best.”

I sideways glanced at Spike. The alcohol would hurt like mother. Spike caught the look and nodded. “S’ok Slayer. Nothing else works quite right on vampires.”

Accepting that I sat on the coffee table next to the couch and began to douse a cloth in alcohol. I started on the outer areas of the burns gently washing away any dirt or grime which could make life hell for Spike. I heard Spike suck in deeply as soon as the cloth touched his chest. “Sorry,” I whispered. As I worked it amazed me at how quickly his alabaster abs had become a red and black bloody mess. I worked away gently as Clem stood over me, ready to get whatever I needed and whenever I needed it. Spike remained silent throughout the whole ordeal in too much pain to say anything. At one point I suggested Clem feed him in the hope that maybe then he would heal quicker. Clem did so but we couldn’t see any evidence that it had helped.

As I tied the last bandage on, I realised that Spike had passed out. I guessed from a combination of pain and exhaustion. Standing up quietly I stretched my cramping body and checked my watch. The patch up job had taken longer than I thought. I turned to Clem knowing Dawn and Xander would be freaking by now.

“Will he be okay here?” I asked.

Clem nodded. “He’ll be fine. In a few days as good as new.”

I smiled weakly at Clem’s attempt a good humour. “Thanks. I just got to put check in. I’ll be back tomorrow.” I paused, then realised that this was no longer Spike’s place. “If that’s okay with you?” I added hurriedly.

Clem nodded understanding. He knew there was something between me and Spike that even we couldn’t explain. I quickly said goodbye to Clem after thanking him a few hundred times. I pulled on my jacket as I went to leave the crypt. Suddenly on impulse I leant over and placed a gentle kiss on Spike’s sleeping forehead and then silently left the crypt.


End file.
